Tales from the Mat

Beginners Mind
By Thayne Balzer

As the first session of Carrie Owerko’s weekend intensive approached, I felt much like I did before my first yoga class–a bit nervous, but excited by the opportunity for learning. Carrie, in fact, named what I was feeling later in the first session. She reminded us that we needed to approach our practice with a “beginners mind”–like a baby first learning to walk. The “beginners mind” is “the innocence of the first inquiry” (Zen Mind, Beginners Mind, Shunryu Zuzuki), and is at the heart of why I enjoy the weekend intensives offered at JLYC.

From the very beginning of my practice just over three years ago, yoga has been a journey of inquiry for me. I grew up in a very competitive environment - with a strong focus on performance. In high school, my father came to nearly every one of my cross country and track meets, and I could always hear his voice (real or imagined) as I neared the finish line. I learned early on that approval came with a strong performance; and, after high school, never ran competitively again. My first yoga class, at the age of 56, was much different than my high school running experience. I had started practicing meditation as a way of relieving the stress of my job, and had read that yoga would compliment my meditation practice. I welcomed the opportunity to understand my body in new and different ways. I was intrigued with the focus on alignment and balance, and the use of props to practice initial aspects of the poses; however, I was surprised at the lack of praise in most of the classes. I began to understand how attached I still was to the connection between performance and acceptance, and how general comments of praise (i.e., “Good job!” or “You’re doing well.”) fed that connection for me. As I got deeper into my yoga practice, I learned to listen more closely to my teacher, Tonya Garreaud’s descriptions of what the muscles, tendons, skin, and joints should (or should not) be doing; and, then tuning into my body, to see if I could experience those descriptions. I found that my “beginners mind” was nurtured when I used the descriptive instructions and my body’s response as a feedback loop. And I learned to appreciate specific feedback much more; i.e., “You’re remembering to lift your knees.” Or “Your Sirsasana is getting quieter.”

During my very first weekend intensive, Chris Saudek asked us to hold Janu Sirsasana longer than I’d ever held it before. I remember the stretch in my muscles and thinking to myself, “I can’t hold this much longer!” Then, as I tried to quiet my mind and stay open to the possibility that I could hold the pose longer, I began to relax into the pose. It was really the first time that I experienced and understood the concept of effort and surrender, of practice and non-attachment. Holding the pose was not about performance, but about being present.

Though I am trying to develop a more consistent focus on my “beginners mind,” it is easy to become comfortable with the rhythm of a weekly class and my regular daily practice. The intensity of a weekend workshop serves as a periodic renewal of my awareness. Carrie’s weekend intensive was just that. Her reminder to approach our practice like a child learning to walk enabled me to relax into the poses, experience new ways of approaching familiar poses with fresh eyes, and try new poses with the innocence of a beginner. I continue to learn what it means to “approach our practice and life with freshness, with open-mindedness, [and] without being bound by preconceived notions” (Elizabeth Goodman, “Beginners Mind” Blog).

With much gratitude to Tonya for nurturing my “beginners mind” from the very start of my practice,
Thayne Balzer